


feelings are fatal

by butiwaswildonce



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: (assumed) unrequited/one-sided pining, AU, Awkward Family Dinners, Best Friends, Childhood Friends, College AU, Friends to Lovers, Gay Jughead Jones, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Smut, home for the holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:34:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22506379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butiwaswildonce/pseuds/butiwaswildonce
Summary: Being back in Riverdale brought everything back into sharp focus, and Jughead was having a hard time remembering that he was no longer 16, closeted and secretly in love with his best friend.Well, at least, he was no longer 16, or closeted.Unfortunately, he was very much still in love with his best friend.~
Relationships: (past) Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Archie Andrews/Jughead Jones
Comments: 31
Kudos: 192





	1. it's always for you

~

_"I always knew there was something going on between you two."_

Jughead had known that blending their families for the holidays would be a mistake. But with FP still locked up, and Mary away on a singles cruise, well. It had made sense, to all eat together. It meant he got to spend the day with Jellybean and Archie and Fred, and he’d conceded that the unfortunate presence of Gladys was a necessary evil. 

But then she’d said, well. _That_. In front of everyone, like she had no idea what she was doing. 

His mother was not ignorant. She was, however, capable of inappropriately inserting herself into his life whenever she pleases. 

_(And then leaving just as quickly)._

Heat rushing to his face, he’d looked anywhere but at Archie, who had laughed and brushed off her comment, with an ease that churned in his gut and made something rotten take root inside of him. 

Jellybean’s knowing gaze had captured his attention and he’d shovelled roast potatoes hastily into his mouth, eyes trained steadily on his plate, ignoring the conversation going on around him. He was hyper aware of every move Archie made beside him, every shift of his body, his arm brushing against Jughead’s in a way that made Jughead’s hair stand on end. 

He felt dreadfully exposed, completely without defense, and Archie seemed, as usual, perfectly oblivious. 

They should have just stayed on campus. They could have just ordered takeout and played video games all day and night and it would've been just like every other day.

Being back in Riverdale brought everything back into sharp focus, and Jughead was having a hard time remembering that he was no longer 16, closeted and secretly in love with his best friend. 

Well, at least, he was no longer 16, or closeted. 

Unfortunately, he was very much still in love with his best friend.

~

“Jug, you know you don't have to sleep on the floor, right?" Archie repeated, earnest concern painted across his face. 

Jughead snorted, unrolling the sleeping bag he'd used at the Andrews' house since he was 8. 

"Yeah, I do. Unless you want my mom to continue assuming we're together." He didn't know why he said it, but as soon as he did, he regretted it. He felt his cheeks flame red and he fixed his gaze on the wall.

Covering up the following silence, he cleared his throat, dropped the sleeping bag like it was on fire and quickly grabbed his toothbrush. "Anyway, I'm gonna, uh..." and with that, he bolted from the room, holding his breath until he reached the bathroom and shut the door behind him. 

" _Fuck_."

He splashed his face with cold water, clenching his eyes shut. He _lived_ with Archie. This should not be this hard. Most of the time, he could compartmentalize. If he came home to yet another girl in Archie’s bed, fine. He could deal. 

But being in this house, in that room, where his feelings had grown and flourished and become a part of him as he grew up, it opened up every raw nerve and tender, vulnerable spot he had. 

Taking a shuddering breath, he looked at himself in the mirror. 

“Get a grip,” he told himself firmly. Wiping his face and cleaning his teeth, he finally feels strong enough to face the rest of the night, and emotionally braces himself for impact as he heads back to the bedroom.

Archie looks up at him from where he sits, _shirtless, great, just what Jughead needs,_ on his bed. He seems to be considering something, which is a strange look on him. 

Jughead breaks the silence, finally. “Mario Kart?” he questions, nodding toward the old console and T.V in the corner of the room.

Archie smiles, the same way he always does, like his happiness is uncomplicated and easy. Jughead feels himself mirroring him, because he can’t _not_ , because he’s helpless to the way his heart races and palms sweat in response to the way Archie looks at him.

Like he’s _important_. Like Archie doesn’t want to be spending his nights anywhere but there, with him, and Jughead lets himself bask in the hope that it makes him feel. Just for a little while, clinging to it as long as he can.

~

He wakes up sometime later, overheated, beads of sweat pooling down his face, and crushed up against the wall. The room is bathed in blue light from the T.V, and pressed to his back is a very asleep, very warm, very much still-shirtless Archie. 

A choked sound leaves his throat, and Archie makes a huffing noise behind him, face pressed into Jughead’s neck. His breath is hot and makes the hairs on Jughead's neck stand up. He shudders, overwhelmed at the sensation. Suddenly and abruptly, he's achingly hard, desperate, and _trapped_.

This cannot be happening. This is not happening. Jughead pinches himself, and of course, it hurts like hell.

Falling asleep while playing video games was hardly unusual for them, but usually Jughead took great pains to put distance between them. But with the emotional rollercoaster he’d been through that day, he’d just wanted to relax, to forget, and he’d let himself ease up on the strict boundaries he usually put between them.

And now, for his momentary lapse, he was in what could only be described as his own personal hell.

Archie’s bare arm was wrapped around him, tight around his waist. The comforter, thankfully, was acting as a barrier between their hips, or Jughead may very well have lost his entire mind. 

Jughead tried to clear his head, assessing if he could move without waking Archie. There was really no way, he barely had room to breathe, his face an inch from the wall and Archie pressed _all along his back_. Fuck. Fuck. 

If he woke Archie, and Archie had some kind of _’i’m not gay, no homo bro, you know i support you but i’m not like that,’ _crisis, Jughead might not actually survive it. There’s a very real possibility that being told in no uncertain terms that he absolutely had no chance with Archie would break his heart, and that he’d never recover.__

__He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe through what was becoming panic._ _

__There was some movement behind him, and he froze, holding his breath, listening. Archie didn’t seem to be waking but he was… oh. Oh, God._ _

__His hips were moving, and he was making these small sounds in the back of his throat, and oh. Jesus Christ. Jughead was going to _die_. If he thought he was turned on before, it was nothing, absolutely _nothing_ , compared to the fire that burned through him as he realized that Archie was unmistakably hard, and rubbing off on him. In his sleep._ _

__Heart flying into his throat, he knew there was only one option, before he allowed his best friend to do something he’d most certainly regret. He gripped Archie’s arm, trying to find his voice._ _

__“Archie,” it came out too soft, croaked and shaky. Fuck. “Arch!” he repeated, louder this time._ _

__The movement stilled, and Jughead could feel the tension in the room._ _

__“Wah?” Archie’s muffled voice came, moving further away from him, until Jughead had room enough to turn around. When he did, Archie was looking at him with confusion, the comforter cradled over his crotch. The moonlight bled through the blinds, and Archie’s abs were fucking _glistening_ , and Jughead’s life? Was just plain not fair._ _

__Archie was opening and closing his mouth like he wanted to say something, but eventually his jaw snapped shut. Gritting his teeth, he looked at the floor as he sat up._ _

__“Sorry. I’m gonna… go, uh, hmm.” He gestured to the bathroom, cupping his hands in front of himself as he walked awkwardly out of the room._ _

__Seconds later, the shower started, and Jughead very much had his own problem to deal with._ _

__He glared down at his dick, painfully hard in his jeans, and hissed as he adjusted himself. He willed it away, arranging the sleeping bag on the floor and curling up awkwardly._ _

__As he waited, staring at the ceiling like it could help him, he listened as the shower was shut off, and he prepared himself for the upcoming conversation. He listened carefully to every step Archie made, imagining him embarrassed and confused, and he knew what the excuses would be._ _

___I’m used to sharing a bed with girls_._ _

___I was dreaming about a girl._ _ _

__And he prepared himself for it, for the clear line in the sand, the rebuff, the undeniable and clear statement that _Jughead is not who Archie wants_._ _

__He waits. And waits. And waits._ _

__He listens as Archie pads down the stairs, and suddenly, he hears the front door opening and then slamming shut, and footsteps down the front stairs._ _

__Jughead sits upright, and hears Archie’s truck starting, and his heart races. Scrambling for his phone, he checks the time. It’s 4 in the morning. Where the fuck could he be going?_ _

__And the answer Jughead’s mind supplies cuts him, because he knows. He knows exactly where Archie always runs, like a bad habit._ _

__Veronica._ _

__Jughead sighs, eyes stinging with salt and he shoves his palms over his eyes, heaving a breath. Curling his fist, he punches his pillow into shape, with perhaps more force than necessary, and rolls over to glare at the wall._ _

__He stays there, like that, and watches as the room fills with sunlight and finally, _finally_ morning comes. _ _

__~_ _


	2. better in the half light

Archie comes home when the sun is high in the sky and breakfast has been had and Jellybean has grilled Jughead about the dark circles under his eyes, with the kind of suspicion she usually reserves for their mom. 

When Archie finally marches through the front door, keys swinging in his hand, he pauses when he sees Jughead on the couch, eyes widening almost comically. 

“Hey, man,” Archie says, not quite meeting Jughead’s eyes. He sniffs the air. “Bacon?” he asks, not waiting for a reply before walking toward the kitchen. 

It’s a forced kind of casual, and Jughead feels tension spike inside him. 

He follows him into the kitchen, arms folded around himself.

Looking down at the floor, he forces himself to ask. He has to _know_.

“Where’d you go?”

Archie freezes, a bacon strip hanging from his lip, and finally, finally, he meets Jughead’s eyes. Briefly, for no more than a moment. But it happens. 

“Just… out.” 

“How enlightening,” Jughead snarks in response. His tone is maybe harsher than he intended, but he wants to lash out. He wants something more from Archie than the weird, distant, stilted conversation he’s getting.

Archie shifts uncomfortably, and it’s like he’s itching to escape the room, to escape _Jughead_ , and it’s a painful realization. Jughead blinks quickly, feeling a lump rising in his throat. 

Before Jughead can respond, Archie’s turning from him, heading up the stairs. 

“I’m going for a run, so I'm gonna go change,” he says, and then he’s just… gone.  
_Again._

He couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as Jughead for _thirty seconds_ , and Jughead has to fight the swell of panic inside him. 

He spends the day vacillating between panic that he has somehow done something to make Archie uncomfortable, that Archie has somehow _figured it out_ , and anger that Archie is making him _feel_ like he’s done something wrong. 

Jughead is the one who had woken up with _Archie_ holding _him_. But he also can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing something, that he had given some indication to Archie about his feelings for him, and the terror at that thought chills him to the bone.

Archie is… the one constant Jughead has ever known. He’s the only person who has been there, for everything, no matter what, his whole life. The fear of losing that, of Archie being disgusted by, or uncomfortable around him? It’s like plunging his whole body into an ice-bath. He can’t even _process_ it.

He’s broken from his internal struggle only when the sky has gone dark and he’s jolted from his thoughts by the noise of Fred coming home, and he goes back to Archie’s room where he sits on the bed, staring at the wall, for what feels like hours.

The door slams downstairs some time later, well past when Jughead had politely declined dinner (to the deep concern of everyone in the house), and there are voices, _Archie_ , Jughead hears him, and his stomach leaps.

He drags his hand over his face, muttering into his palm, before exhaling slowly. Rolling his shoulders back, he finally decides to head downstairs, when he hears footsteps coming up the stairs.

The bedroom door swings open just as he makes his way there, and both him and Archie jump back at the sudden appearance of the other. 

“Jug!” Archie says, standing still in the doorway. “I didn’t think you were home!”

His face shows his emotions clearly, as usual, and the genuine deer-in-headlights look in Archie’s expression sends Jughead’s heart racing. Clamming up, he slumps back to sit on the edge of the bed, and swallows his pride. Because he’s going to have to fucking say something, isn’t he.

“Well, unfortunately I am.” 

Archie’s expression shifts, and his eyes do the guilty puppy dog thing that drives Jughead _crazy_.

“Jug,” Archie swallows, walking further into the room until he’s stood in front of Jughead. “I didn’t mean…” he trails off, shrugging.

They’ve known each other too long, and been through too much, for the silence between them to be as awkward as it was becoming. 

“Look, I can go stay somewhere else tonight,” Jughead offers. Without waiting for a reply, he turns to grab his things, wanting to get out of there and feeling defeated. 

The room feels still, and too quiet. The hair on the back of Jughead’s neck prickles, and he feels a light hand at his spine. 

Softly, Archie says, “I don’t want you to go.”

His back straightens, and he blinks furiously, trying to parse Archie’s actions and words. His mind races as the memory of Archie so close the night before replays and he wants, he _wants_.

“Jug…” Archie’s voice breaks. He steps closer, his chest at Jughead’s back. 

Exhaling heavily, Archie’s hand on Jughead’s shoulder spins him around, and suddenly they’re face to face.

Eyes locked, Archie trails a hand along Jughead’s shoulder, over his neck, and traces his jaw. Jughead forgets how to breathe, how to speak, how to _think_. 

It feels magnetic, the way their lips meet. It’s sudden, and heated, and fast. There’s no preamble, no hesitation, not even enough time to blink. Archie’s mouth feels like every single one of his hopeless daydreams come true, and he’s groaning before he can help himself, arms frozen at his sides. 

At the sound, Archie pulls him closer, hands sliding up his spine beneath his shirt, and Jughead is _shaking_ , because he’s never been both so turned on and so blindsided in his entire 19 years on earth. 

He gasps as Archie eases the pace, and breaks for air, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

His eyes blink open slowly, breath escaping him unsteadily, and Archie is staring down at him, still holding him. _Still holding him._

“I… _what?_ ” is all Jughead can manage to say, shaking his head, trying to clear his thoughts. 

Archie smiles, like he always does, and Jughead can’t take it. Shoving forward, he slams his mouth against Archie’s, clinging to him like he’ll lose him if he lets up. Archie gives back as good as he gets, like Jughead _always knew he would, fuck_ , and walks them back until Jughead’s knees hit the mattress.

They fall together, gracelessly. Archie, being Archie, laughs at the flail of Jughead’s arms, causing Jughead to scowl. 

Before he knows what’s happening, Archie’s leaning forward, his forehead resting on Jughead’s.

“I’ve… wanted to do that for so long.”

“What?” _What?_

(Eloquence has not returned to Jughead.)

Breathing heavily, Jughead shakes his head, trying to understand. He lifts up on his elbows, but Archie doesn’t move, so all he does is bring them closer together. Which… fuck. Right. He’s painfully, obviously, and entirely turned on. 

He decides they can talk. After. After they’ve dealt with… that.

Archie, _being Archie_ , seems enthusiastically on board with that plan. Jughead smiles into their fevered kiss, unable to believe that it’s even _happening_.

Jughead feels heat all over his body, crawling up his neck, settling in his belly. His jeans are painfully tight, and when Archie rolls them, so he’s on top, his legs slotted between Jughead’s, he swears he sees _stars_. Which is too much of a cliché for him to really deal with, so he shakes his head to clear it of that thought, and Archie smiles into their kiss, backing away from him minutely.

“What is it?” Archie whispers, and he’s grinning. He’s grinning at Jughead, the smile that means he’s shamelessly enjoying himself, that’s usually reserved for his dad or Vegas or his mom, or, Jughead thinks with no small amount of envy, Veronica.

But now it’s him. It’s _for him_.

Jughead feels his face lift in a mirrored expression, completely without his permission, and he’s horrified to note his voice sounds _hushed_ and _breathless_ when he speaks. 

“Nothing-- It’s… nothing, just, come here.”

He can’t hold back, not in the face of this revelation. He clashes them together once more, and when Archie’s hips roll down to meet his, he feels his back arch instinctively, wanting to be as close as he can. There’s no time to think about anything but _kiss him_ and _oh fuck that feels good_ and _fuck, shit, fuck, he’s close_.

Archie’s hands begin to roam, tracing up and down Jughead’s abdomen, and he shivers in response. When Archie reaches the zipper of his jeans, he pulls away, a question on his lips. Of course it’s yes, it’s always yes, and in a matter of seconds their tumbling together, removing their pants haphazardly but not without enthusiasm. 

It strikes Jughead that this is what it’s like, having sex with someone you know like the back of your hand. He’d always thought he’d be scared, if he ever got this far with Archie. That he’d do something wrong, or he’d compare their bodies and feel… inadequate, or something.

But with Archie, who he can communicate with without even really saying a word, who reads him and seems to know his body, already, as well as his own, it’s so _new_ , but _familiar_ , too. 

When their bodies line up perfectly, and they’re both grinding together at a faster and faster pace, chasing friction, Jughead can’t overthink anything. It’s his first time, and as far as he knows, Archie’s first time with a guy. It’s clumsy. They lose their rhythm, and their teeth clash painfully, and more than once Archie pulls away from him to mutter, “I can’t believe I’m touching your dick.” It doesn’t matter. It’s perfect, to him. Perfect, for them.

When they finish, it’s rough and hot and Archie pins his arms in a way that makes his eyes roll back, and he comes harder than he has in years. Archie makes these little pleased groaning noises after, like he can’t stop himself from vocalizing his pleasure, and it sends a rush down Jughead’s spine.

Satisfaction. Pride. _He did that_.

~

It’s not awkward. Jughead thought it would be awkward. But after cleaning them both off, and putting their boxers back on, Archie rolls over, and kisses him, gentle, but solid.

But Jughead, being Jughead, comes back to his head eventually. He asks, even with the suspicion that he probably doesn’t need to. He asks, anyway.

“This is… real, right? Like, I’m not gonna wake up and you’re avoiding me again?”

Something flashes across Archie’s face, and it’s unusual that Jughead can’t read it. It passes, though. 

“I was just… I had to clear my head,” Archie begins. “And I went to Veronica’s, and we talked. She made me realize… I mean, I thought I'd scared you for sure. But she said something, about, um.” Archie swallows, eyes glancing away for the first time. “About the way you… look, at me. So I…” 

It’ll probably take Jughead an entire lifetime to process the fact that Veronica Lodge had meddled in his love life, for _his benefit_ , but he decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

“So…?” Jughead prompts.

“So, yeah, Jug. It’s real.” 

Jughead grins, and leans forward. Inches from Archie’s mouth, he can’t help himself. “Wanna pinch me, just to be sure?”

“Is that good enough?” Archie laughs, punching him lightly in the arm. 

Jughead nods, and kisses Archie Andrews, and it’s _real_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the second chapter took 2 months! It really was not meant to, but, life. 
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts in the comments, I'd really appreciate it. Thank you to everyone for the support on the first chapter! 
> 
> ok love u all i hope you enjoyed xoxo
> 
> (PS. chapter title from Half Light by Lyon Hart. It's a very Jughead song to me.)

**Author's Note:**

> title from the mxmtoon song of the same name. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments! thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ohbutiwaswildonce
> 
> xx


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